


Marked

by ohimadeitallup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season 9, Season 9 Spoilers, Smut, angsty smut, meta fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohimadeitallup/pseuds/ohimadeitallup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shh,” Cas soothed, one hand going up to rake through Dean’s hair. That only caused him to sob harder, clinging to the angel like he was his dying hope. “Dean, we’ll fix this.”</p><p>WARNING: This is set after S09E18 Meta Fiction, so spoiler alert if you haven't watched it yet!</p><p>Castiel found out about the Mark of Cain. Dean's terrified of what he's turning into, and knows the angel will hate him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> My very first smut! (Please feel free to drop critique!)
> 
> I must mention that all my knowledge of sex comes from biology class, porn and fan fiction (in that order) so any mistakes are mostly due to my ignorance. Feel free to point those out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

He wasn’t supposed to find out. Not like this. Dean had planned for him to know eventually, of course, but he always assumed it would be accidental- maybe he’d walk in on Dean killing Abaddon, hell he would probably find out when Dean killed Metatron. And Dean would be too caught up in the moment to witness the abject confusion- and worse, betrayal- in those baby blues. He wouldn’t have had to watch Castiel’s face fall, knowing the angel would eventually blame himself; of course he would blame himself, he was practically a Winchester!

Dean laughed dryly at the thought, emptying the last dregs of his sixth beer. Of course, it was only a habit now, any and all ability to actually get intoxicated by alcohol having been wrung out of him by the Life. It was a metaphor of sorts- keeping the alcohol down, locked within his system till it became a part of him; unintrusive, like his loss or his rage. Yes, it harmed him more than he could imagine. No, he was not going to let it all out. This was all he had in the world- pain and heartbreak- it was the only legacy he could leave behind.

Truth be told, the formidable rage he felt with the Blade in his hand scared him. Scratch that. He was fucking terrified. It was like all of the anger and bitterness from the past hitting him all at once and a hundred times more intensely, till all he could see was the sheer need to obliterate- like his only purpose in life was to kill every last creature that so much as looked wrongly in his direction. That, imbued with the fierce instinct to protect Sam, made a deadly combination that caused Dean to shudder even thinking of it.

And now Castiel knew. And he hated Dean. Resented him, even if the angel would admit to no such emotion- he was only the kindest person Dean knew, after all. And it hurt. Somewhere, deep down in that enormous tangle of the jagged pieces of his soul, it clawed at him. Dean was surprised he could even feel the pain anymore- he wasn’t sure if it was a completely unpleasant surprise. He deserved pain. After all the havoc he’s wreaked in his little brother’s life, it was only fair that he paid for it. If you’d asked a ten-year-old Dean Winchester what his happy ending would be, he wouldn’t bat an eye before telling you that it involved his brother having a safe, happy life with a beautiful partner and two and a half kids. Apple pie to the core. That was what Sam deserved. He wasn’t meant to end up like this- with an alcoholic brother with rage issues, a practically empty lair with no one to warm his bed, and a mental history with the fucking Devil!

He was (temporarily) pulled out of his self-loathing by a familiar ripple in the air. He’d even recognise the sound of those wings when tied up to the rack in Hell, being torn to pieces.

“Cas,” he breathed. Turning around, he was faced by those deep blue eyes, too close for comfort, yet not nearly close enough.

“We need to talk,” Castiel said, monotonous. Dean hated when he did that- kept his voice from giving away any emotion. The hunter couldn’t gauge what his friend was feeling. Couldn’t figure out where they stood with each other.

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that,” Dean replied humourlessly, offering the other man a seat. He didn’t take it.

“Dean you must understand-” the angel began, and Dean cut him off with another bark of dry laughter.

“Understand what?” he asked. “That the Mark of Cain is a huge responsibility? That it will affect me in ways I don’t understand? Well stow it, ‘cause I figured that out myself.” He opened another six pack, wrenching the cap off a new glass bottle and pushing it to his lips.

“It is not just a mark, Dean,” Castiel replied, anger creeping into his tone. “There is a reason Cain lived an isolated life. This is no child’s play.”

“I never said it was,” Dean mumbled around the mouth of the bottle.

Castiel snapped at that, stepping forward to wrench the glass from his hands, tossing it at the opposite wall. “Damn it, Dean!” he yelled. “This sort of thing alters your thoughts, your emotions. Your fucking _soul_!”

Dean winced at that. Hearing the angel swear was somehow worse than being at the receiving end of all that righteous anger.

“Yeah well,” he replied wryly. “Ain’t nothing great about this soul anyway.”

“How _dare_ you!” Castiel yelled again, now grabbing Dean by the collar and pulling him to his feet, his knuckles digging into the hunter’s throat through a layer of worn out plaid.

Dean, now slightly alarmed, said, “If you pull that ‘I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition’ crap again, Cas, I’m gonna have to hurt you.”

Castiel’s fists closed tighter at that, till he was practically lifting Dean off the floor by the flimsy fabric. “You listen to me, Dean Winchester,” he hissed, their faces close enough that Dean felt the ghost of every word on his face. “ _You_ taught me to fight for family, and _you_ taught me that family doesn’t end with blood. _You_ taught me to stand up for the truth, and _you_ taught me that the truth isn’t always what everyone tells you it is.” His words were punctuated by jerks of his fists, and Dean was sure he’d have bruises on his throat when Castiel was through with him. He wasn’t sure he’d mind that at all.

“If you think, for even a _second_ , that I’m going to allow you to hurt yourself like this, you are thoroughly mistaken,” the angel continued, the frustration now blatant in his voice. “I have fallen from Grace, lost my home, forgotten who I am, and taken innocent lives. I have sinned and I have blasphemed. I have hurt immeasurably those who care about me, and I have broken every good thing I ever had. Do you know why I’m still here?”

“Casa erotica?” Dean tried to joke, putting on a fake smile, because that is what he did. He shot out corny one-liners to get out of admitting that he was scared. It came out a little shaky, though, what with the proximity to the only man who knew him in and out. Well, literally.

Castiel, of course, saw right through it, and his grip tightened even further- Dean didn’t know that was possible. “ _You_ , Dean,” he almost whispered. “I did all of that so you could do what you were always meant to.”

“Yeah?” Dean whispered back sarcastically. “And what’s that?”

“Live.”

That caused Dean to freeze. All his life had been a series of selfless responsibilities. Watch out for Sammy, make sure he doesn’t get hurt. Watch out for Baby, make sure she works perfectly. Watch out for monsters, make sure they don’t take any more victims. Watch out for the demons, make sure they don’t possess any more people. Watch out for the angels, make sure they don’t rope Sam into the Apocalypse. Hell he couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him what he wanted for breakfast, or even what he wanted to do in bed! Of course the answer to both would be the same now, but Cas couldn’t know that, because if he did, he’d leave, and this time he’d never come back.

“What for?” he rasped. “There’s nothing here for me. The only thing I’m good for is killing things. Might as well put my skill to good use and get rid of some evils sons-of-bitches.”

“Don’t say that.” Castiel sounded defeated as he let go of Dean and took a few steps back. His eyes had lost the innocent curiosity they once held, and it broke the hunter’s heart. “Please, Dean. You know you’re better than this.”

Dean had to close his eyes against the sight of an angel of the Lord begging.

“This is all I have, Cas,” he whispered, voice trembling, as a stinging sensation began to hit the backs of his eyes.

“Dean,” Castiel said in a low voice, his hands coming to rest on the hunter’s broad shoulders.

Dean leaned into the touch, letting Castiel pull him in and burying his face in the shorter man’s neck. One hand began to rub slowly up and down the expanse of his back, and that gesture- a grave reminder of the way his mother comforted him- broke him. The first sob was loud, wracking through both of them. And then came another, and another, till Dean was an incoherent, babbling, apologetic mess.

“I’m sorry,” he kept repeating. “I didn’t meant to…it was never meant to get so…Cas please! I- I need help.”

“Shh,” Cas soothed, one hand going up to rake through Dean’s hair. That only caused him to sob harder, clinging to the angel like he was his dying hope. “Dean, we’ll fix this.”

“H-how?” he hiccupped.

“I don’t know,” the angel admitted. “But we’ll figure it out. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Sam.”

“Will that be enough?” Dean asked, knowing he’d take his friend’s next words as the absolute truth.

“It always has been,” Castiel smiled into the hunter’s hair, hands moving to pull him closer, letting him use the angel for support.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded after a while, pulling away slightly and looking at the ground. “Yeah we’ll- we’ll figure it out.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, causing him to look up. “I promise you. I swear to you, by all that I am, that we will fix this.”

Dean nodded mutely, his gaze captured by Castiel’s own. Slowly, the angel raised a hand to cup his face, still giving him time to step away if he so wished. He didn’t. Instead, Dean let himself be pulled in till their mouths were mere centimetres apart.

“Dean, I-” Castiel breathed, the words lingering in the minute space between them.

“What?” Dean whispered back.

“You’re vulnerable,” he stated uncertainly. “I don’t want to take advantage of-”

“Shut up,” Dean said and closed the gap between them.

The first meeting of lips was soft- chaste, even- lasting for a few seconds.

“That okay?” Dean asked, because hell if he knew what the angel wanted. He only knew that he would give the shorter man whatever he wanted, in every way possible.

Castiel answered by leaning in again, for longer this time, sucking on his lower lip. His hands found their way into the hunter’s leather jacket, resting on his back, his skin warm even through the layers of clothes on it. Dean’s arms went around Castiel’s waist as his tongue ran along the seam of his lips. The angel groaned low in his throat, opening his mouth and letting Dean in. The first touch of their tongues had both men shivering and breaking apart for oxygen, only to come together again, grabbing at each other more furiously.

One of Dean’s hands found their way into dark, dishevelled hair and he tugged lightly, causing the other man to moan and push harder into his mouth. Their bodies were flush against each other, arms a little clumsy as they worked automatically to divest themselves of their clothing. One last suck at kiss swollen lips and Dean pulled back.

“Bedroom,” he said, breathless. The last thing he needed right now was his brother looking for a midnight snack and walking in on him butt naked, being fucked by their mutual friend on the table they do their research on.

Castiel nodded and followed the taller man, all the while touching him and taking detours to press him against a wall and lave at his neck like he’d learned from the pizza man. The second they were in Dean’s room, the door locked, Dean grabbed at Castiel’s trench coat, nearly ripping it off his frame in haste. Castiel reciprocated by taking the leather jacket off. He would ideally prefer to just zap their clothes off, but he’d read that this- the slow reveal- was meant to be an erotic experience for humans. Dean, meanwhile, was busy sucking bruises into the angel’s neck while his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and ripped the shirt apart, throwing it away to attack the naked torso in front of him.

“Not one for the slow reveal then,” Castiel chuckled, zapping the rest of their clothes away. The sudden chill on his skin had Dean shivering, a blush beginning to warm his face at being caught out on his eagerness.

“Yeah well,” he panted. “You’re insanely hot.”

“Jimmy Novak is,” Castiel corrected.

“You are,” Dean reiterated, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close. Their chests were flush against each other and oh god was that-

Dean groaned loudly as their erect cocks came in to contact with each other, unconsciously rolling his hips for more of that gorgeous friction. “Cas,” he whimpered.

“How do you want me, Dean?” Castiel asked, still a semblance of control in his voice, as he kissed the hunter again, one hand moving up to skim over firm pectorals till he found a nipple and twisted. Dean groaned into his mouth again, grinding their erections together harder.

“In me,” he said into Castiel’s mouth. “Want you to fuck me. _Please_ , Cas.”

The words went straight to Castiel’s groin and he had to push the other man away so he could breathe- he’d forgotten that he didn’t need to. Dean whined at the loss of contact, though he’d deny it later. For now, he needed Cas inside him too much to even care that he was a begging mess.

“Get into bed,” the angel ordered. “ _Now_.”

More than eager to comply, Dean stripped the mattress of the comforter and lay on his back, hands reaching towards his angel. Like a magnet, Castiel was drawn to follow him, setting himself between Dean’s spread legs as he bowed his back to kiss the hunter soundly, before moving down his body to place open mouthed kisses down his sternum, sucking and leaving marks randomly. These were the bruises he wanted Dean to see when he looks into a mirror. These Marks, forged in passion and love, as opposed to the hundreds scarring his skin that only brought pain and suffering.  Every touch of lips to his skin was a prayer- a promise, and Dean writhed and groaned under the attention, unused to being given this much affection without a price. He attempted, several times, to pull the angel back up and roll them over- to give as good as he was getting, but Castiel wouldn’t allow it. This was about Dean. Only ever Dean.

When Castiel reached Dean’s lower abdomen, it only seemed natural to press a kiss to his lover’s throbbing member, causing him to jump under the angel and twine his fingers in his hair.

“Cas,” he ground out. “Not gonna last.”

Castiel took him into his mouth, tasting the clear liquid beading at the head, revelling in the fact that he was the cause for such a pronounced reaction from the Righteous Man. He held Dean’s cock steady at the base with his left hand and bobbed his head up and down a couple of times, then pulled off with a loud slurp. Apparently, the other man liked that, his eyes squeezed shut, both hands tugging at Castiel’s hair. He crawled back up the hunter’s body, kissing him again, letting him taste himself on his tongue. The calloused hands in his hair moved to the back of his neck, gripping tight as if Dean were sucking the very breath out of him.

“Lube,” Dean rasped, hand reaching out blindly to the bedside drawer, searching aimlessly till he found a little bottle filled with a clear, jelly-like substance. Castiel snatched it from him, quickly flipping the top off and pouring it out over two fingers of his left hand.

He reached down between Dean’s legs, dragging his fingers lightly over his straining erection, down and behind his balls till he reached the ring of muscle he was looking for. Dean blushed a little, ducking his head away and tried to hide his face in crook of Castiel’s arm that was braced next to it. He’d done this before, of course, loads of times, but no one had looked at him the way Cas was looking at him. No one had seen through him like this, looking into his core- his very soul, and accepted what they found. Cas was leaning over him, braced on his right elbow, body a human shield over Dean’s own, and Dean wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the angel’s chest and never let him leave again. He knew that was impossible, of course. Cas would do this for him, give him a night of heavenly pleasure so he could see reason and let him help, and then he’d leave like he always did, when it was all over.

Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw and turned it so their eyes met again. He’d been reading Dean’s thoughts to see if anything he did made the hunter uncomfortable, when the sudden rush of self-loathing and bitterness jarred his own senses. Looking Dean straight in the eye, he shook his head pointedly, then leaned in to kiss him again, while his fingers worked their way around the ring of muscles, willing the other man to relax and let him in. Dean melted into the kiss, the tension in his body seeping out till he was back in the moment- back with his angel.

Slowly, Castiel began to press into him, Dean consciously releasing control of his body so he could enter. Haltingly sliding his index finger in to the knuckle, Castiel was surprised at the warmth inside the hunter’s body. It felt odd to be inside someone else like this, yes, but also extremely pleasant in a way he’d never known before. He could feel his dwindling grace tingling within his veins as his own soul reached out to Dean’s, hoping to join in Holy Communion. He pulled out, then pressed back in, and repeated the movement a couple times more. He then pulled back again, and this time, inserted two fingers. Dean clenched tightly around the intrusion, before forcefully relaxing again. Castiel pushed his other arm below Dean’s neck, raising his head so he could watch. Dean, however, took it as an opportunity to steal more kisses as he panted a constant litany of “Cas, more, please” into his mouth.

Castiel searched for that sensitive bundle of nerves he knew was inside Dean, pressing up against the muscular wall as he pulled out, and knew he’d found it when Dean’s body convulsed as if electrocuted and he yelped loudly. Castiel rubbed at the spot again, eliciting a groan this time as strong hands grabbed at his head and pulled him in for more kisses. He had been patient, but it was getting extremely hard to concentrate.

“Do you have a condom?” he asked reluctantly.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Dean retorted. “Just. Fuck me, Cas. Now!”

Castiel kissed him again, furiously, before pulling his fingers out and squirting some lube on them, then palming at his own severely neglected erection. Pulling back to kneel between Dean’s legs, he searched green eyes for any signs of hesitation. What he found there was beyond affection, or love, or even devotion. It was beyond words, and Castiel felt his grace sing, desperate to be inside this man- to mark him and claim him irrevocably.

He lined up his erection, the rim of Dean’s hole at the tip of it causing him to shudder with pleasure. Pushing slowly, he guided it in till just the head of his cock was inside the hunter, then stopped- more to calm himself down than to let the other man adjust. He didn’t want this to be over too soon. He leaned back up to cup Dean’s face in his palms, kissing his cheeks, his jaw and his neck, before he was pulled into an intense lip lock, bow legs wrapping themselves around his waist. Dean nodded, and that was all the permission he needed, rearing back up and pushing deep till he was buried to the hilt, eyes shut against the pleasure, a loud moan being ripped out of his throat of its own volition.

“Dean!” he gasped, opening wide blue eyes to look down at the hunter in wonder, the sensation of warmth enveloping him foreign, yet familiar at the same time. The sight of Dean, dishevelled and panting, the scent of his sweat and arousal, the very essence of Dean under him, made him want to tear all of Creation apart and put it back together, piece by piece, till everything was Dean, and Dean was the whole world. Looking down at his lover, he knew he wasn’t alone in feeling this way.

He pulled out, then pushed back in, drawing a whine out of Dean, then repeated the action because he needed to hear that again. A few more thrusts had Dean tilting his hips, seeking out friction against that sweet spot. Castiel grabbed his knees from around his own waist and pushed them towards Dean’s chest, angling his pelvis so that the next thrust hit his prostate. Dean cried out loud, and Castiel was sure Sam must have heard it, wherever in the bunker he was.

“Cas!” Dean breathed. “Do that again.” So Castiel did. And he did it again, and again, till Dean was a writhing, incoherent mess under him.

“They can’t have you,” he heard himself say. “Dean. Hell can’t have you. I won’t let them.”

“They can’t,” Dean repeated.

“And nor can Metatron,” Castiel growled. “No one else can have you, Dean.”

“Only you,” the hunter gasped, bringing his palms up to cup Castiel’s face. “Only ever you, Cas.”

The words hit Castiel hard in his chest, spurring him to thrust faster, chasing a climax they both so desperately craved. With each thrust, Dean’s moans got louder, and Castiel reached a hand down to stroke his cock. Dean reared up at the contact, his chest flush against Castiel’s, and panted feverishly through his climax, shuddering as come smeared all over their joined torsos. The clenching of his body seemed to tip Castiel over as well, his arms no longer able to support his weight, as he pressed them both down into the bed, spilling his seed inside the hunter’s body while crying out into his neck.

“Dean,” he breathed into his skin, whispering the only word he knew anymore. The hunter brought both his hands up to stroke Castiel’s back, holding him close while their bodies calmed.

A few long minutes passed, both of them content to bask in the afterglow, and then Castiel pulled out with a sharp hiss, dropping himself on to his back beside Dean. The latter reached over to the drawer to pull out some tissue, tossing some to Castiel as they wiped themselves clean.

“So,” Dean said hesitantly, clearing his throat. “That was…”

“Don’t,” Castiel reproached. “I know you’re going to try and label this. Just….don’t.”

“I need to, Cas,” he insisted. “This is…”

“A mistake?” the angel demanded, too tired to even sound hurt.

There was a pause, then Dean said, “You don’t want this.”

“And how would you know that?” Castiel challenged.

“Trust me,” the hunter replied, his voice almost resigned. “I’m not…”

“Good enough? Is that what you’re about to say?” Castiel’s words were directed to the ceiling, but he felt Dean wince next to him, as if stabbed. He turned to the green-eyed man- the human who didn’t even know his own importance, and never failed to underestimate it- and ran a hand down his arm. “Dean,” he continued, “Of all the people I know, and I know quite a lot, you are the one who deserves the entire world. I want, so badly, to give you every happiness I can think of, but I know I can’t, and it would be foolish to make promises I can’t keep.”

Dean tried to look away, but Castiel’s hand moved back up to his face, making sure the hunter saw in his eyes all that he couldn’t put into words. “What I can give you, is my self. All of it, I want you to have. It may not be much-” Dean began to protest, but Castiel shushed him with a thumb gently placed on his mouth. “It isn’t much, in the grand scheme of things, but you must know that it’s all yours, for as long as you’ll have it.”

Dean had no words. All his fears, all his desires had been laid bare for Castiel to see tonight, and the angel hadn’t so much as batted an eye before giving him everything he wanted- everything he’d ever wanted. He leaned up to place a long, bruising kiss to his lover’s lips, pouring into it all the emotions he couldn’t voice.

“We’ll fix this, Dean,” Castiel reassured. “I promise you, we’ll fix this.”

Dean said the only word he could think of at the time.

“Cas.”


End file.
